Yes, it changes ever so much. It looks different in the morning and in the afternoon; and it’s different on rainy days from what it is in fine weather. GREGERS. Have you noticed that? HEDVIG. Yes, how could I help it? GREGERS. Are you, too, fond of being in there with the wild duck? HEDVIG. Yes, when I can manage it—— GREGERS. But I suppose you haven’t much spare time; you go to school, no doubt. HEDVIG. No, not now; father is afraid of my hurting my eyes. GREGERS. Oh; then he reads with you himself? HEDVIG. Father has promised to read with me; but he has never had time yet. GREGERS. Then is there nobody else to give you a little help? HEDVIG. Yes, there is Mr. Molvik; but he is not always exactly—quite—— GREGERS. Sober? HEDVIG. Yes, I suppose that’s it! GREGERS. Why, then you must have any amount of time on your hands. And in there I suppose it is a sort of world by itself? HEDVIG. Oh yes, quite. And there are such lots of wonderful things. GREGERS. Indeed? HEDVIG. Yes, there are big cupboards full of books; and a great many of the books have pictures in them. GREGERS. Aha! HEDVIG. And there’s an old bureau with drawers and flaps, and a big clock with figures that go out and in. But the clock isn’t going now. GREGERS. So time has come to a standstill in there—in the wild duck’s domain. HEDVIG. Yes. And then there’s an old paint-box and things of that sort; and all the books. GREGERS. And you read the books, I suppose? HEDVIG. Oh yes, when I get the chance. Most of them are English though, and I don’t understand English. But then I look at the pictures.—There is one great big book called “Harrison’s History of London.”[16] It must be a hundred years old; and there are such heaps of pictures in it. At the beginning there is Death with an hour-glass and a woman. I think that is horrid. But then there are all the other pictures of churches, and castles, and streets, and great ships sailing on the sea. GREGERS. But tell me, where did all those wonderful things come from? HEDVIG.